A Free Man
by Chelsie Dagger
Summary: "He looked at his cell for the last time; a tiny bed, a window that only admitted light 10 minutes of every day. There was a time when he had expected to die here, in that bed. His was a life sentence. The love and persistence of a wonderful woman had changed that reality. He was being released today."


He looked at his cell for the last time; a tiny bed, a window that only admitted light 10 minutes of every day.

There was a time when he had expected to die here, in that bed. His was a life sentence. The love and persistence of a wonderful woman had changed that reality. He was being released today. She was waiting for him.

As much as he was looking forward to being with her as husband and wife, he was afraid of disappointing her. He knew that his time here had changed him. Could he offer her the warmth, the love she deserved? While he saw her often, she was always at arms length. They were not allowed to touch. Sometimes he resented the table that separated them. She would touch that table tenderly with her lovely hands; hands that were delicate in size but strong and rough from her work.

His jailers had never been exactly cruel to him, only indifferent, for which he supposed he should be grateful. And so he was, if only because it was expected of him.

As long as he ate at the right time, answered when he was spoken to and kept his head down, he was trusted to his own devices. But what did that mean when there were locks on all the doors?

He was less to them than the dogs. In their eyes, he wasn't an individual, he was a type, and there were plenty like him. There were always men to take his place. They might compliment him on occasion. God, how he hated the affect their attention had on him. He hated that it gave him a rush of pride when they acknowledged him at all. How pathetic. Why should he care what they think?

With so little life for himself, he'd come to live through them to an extent. He listened in on their lives, following every minor crisis like it was a serialized novel. He doubted if any of them even knew his first name. He was still a human being, just like them. He should not become giddy when he was actually treated like one.

He had walked into prison an innocent. But life inside had made him colder. There were days and whole weeks when he forgot to dream. She deserved more than that.

He spared a thought for the other inmates; the ones who had left before him, those he was leaving behind, even those who would come to replace him. Some of the inmates were vindictive, but he'd handled that. Some were kind and a small few even looked up to him, he thought. Though they were all in the same prison; they were all there for different reasons. The reasons ranged from poverty to greed to plain bad luck. Many were orphans. Regardless, they were all a kind of warped family and there was protection in a family.

He would be so horribly exposed on the outside. He had to admit that the outside scared him now. Would he be judged for the time he'd spent here? Could he adjust to the strange sensation of not having his every movement dictated to him? Could their love endure sharing a home together and all his strange, obsessive habits? She'd assured him that it would. He had to believe her; had to believe in her.

It was her love that had seen him through the worst of this time inside. It would be her love that grounded him in the outside world. He was not sure how he could ever repay that. He was certainly going to try.

He avoided eye contact with the other inmates as he traversed the stairs. He'd said his goodbyes earlier, not trusting his voice to obey him in these final moments. He lied to himself, saying that they would forget him soon enough, as he would forget them. But you never forget the people who labor with you shoulder to shoulder day in and day out. Even if you hated them, you would never forget them.

He could see the front door now; this door that represented so much to him. He could see her now, through the open door, waiting patiently for him, as always. He forced himself not to break into a run. He was not sure what direction he would go. Did he want to run to take her in his arms or did he want to run back up the stairs to his cell? Both instincts were equally strong. Fear gripped his heart. Fear of the unknown, fear of the great, wide uncontrolled, uncontrollable, world.

He took a deep breath and continued to walk towards the outside; towards her and the car that would take him away from here.

He forced himself to acknowledge the man who stood next to the door waiting to shake his hand. Could he expect an apology for all the time that had been taken from him? He should blame the system, he supposed, not the warden. He wasn't sure he would accept an apology. He took the offered hand.

"Happy retirement, Mr. Carson. We shall miss you and Mrs. Hughes very much." Lord Grantham said.

**A/N Inspired by an interview in which Jim Carter said Carson was institutionalized, which made me think of Bates. I don't think Carson really feels this way, it was just a fun exercise to find all the potential parallels between Bates' prison experience and Carson's life of service. Hope the end was a surprise. Sorry about the fake out with the character labeling. Don't be too mad. It really is just as much about Bates as it is Carson.  
**


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